If this year marked the Spring of Risotto, then this is surely the Summer of Pesto. I can’t stop making the stuff. It all started a few weeks ago when I threw together some parsley pesto; since then, pretty much anything that I can fit in my Cuisinart is getting blitzed.

A particular favorite of mine is garlic scape pesto — doesn’t this look like I’m about to take my knife to a pile of bright green elvers? — but I’ve had great success with mint and even a sun-dried tomato and basil combo.

If you’re not going to use pesto immediately, no matter what type it is, after you transfer it to a storage container or bowl pour a thin layer of olive oil over its entire surface to keep it from turning an unappetizing shade of brown. Though pesto can be stored in the refrigerator for a couple of days, I’ll pretty much immediately spoon my results into a dated and labeled bags, then freeze them. Days, weeks or even a few months later, you can defrost a bag to mix into a bowl of boiled potatoes, spread onto chicken breast, dollop into omelets and, of course, toss with pasta.

Combine the basil, salt, garlic, nuts and about half the oil in a food processor or blender. Process, stopping to scrape down the sides of the container occasionally, and adding the rest of the oil gradually. Add additional oil if you prefer a thinner mixture. Stir in the Parmesan by hand just before serving.

Put the scapes, 1/3 cup of the cheese, almonds and half the olive oil in the bowl of a food processor (or use a blender or a mortar and pestle). Whir to chop and blend all the ingredients and then add the remainder of the oil and, if you want, more cheese. If you like the texture, stop; if you’d like it a little thinner, add some more oil. Season with salt.

Place the mint leaves, pine nuts and garlic in a food processor and pulse until chopped. With the machine on, add the lemon juice and olive oil in a thin stream and process until smooth. Season the pesto with salt and pepper.

Sun-Dried Tomato Pesto
Makes a bit less than a cup

¾ cup oil-packed sun-dried tomatoes, drained (I prefer to use the halves, though have used the julienned if that is what I had on hand)
¼ cup loosely packed basil leaves
3 tablespoons slivered almonds
3 tablespoons finely grated Parmesan cheese
3 cloves garlic, smashed with the side of your knife
Salt + pepper to taste

Once my book club decided that Laura Claridge‘s biography of Emily Post was our next read, the emails between us started flying with almost more speed than usual. We had already decided to meet on the twenty-second, not realizing that evening was the Academy Awards.

“We could do an Emily Post/Oscars hybrid theme for food,” Sarah wrote. “I’m not really sure what that means. Perhaps finger foods and a fancy drink or tea, and everyone should wear pearls.”

“I love cocktails and pearls,” Stephanie responded, adding, “and that’s kind of like a bachelorette party*, minus the cheesy condom shirts and the stop at Dick’s Last Resort, so yes! This sounds perfect!”

We quickly started suggesting possible bite-sized snacks for the evening; I had been looking for an excuse to try out a recipe for gougères, so I used the get-together as the reason to give Dorie Greenspan‘s version a try — but if I had really been on top of things I would have dug out Ruth Reichl‘s recipe from Garlic and Sapphires, since book club had previously read her other memoir, Tender at the Bone. Oh well. I mean, I need little justification to make something warm with cheese, and Ms. Greenspan’s puffs came out wonderfully. Next time, it’s Reichl all the way.

When we gathered at Sarah’s some of us were toting copies of Daughter of the Gilded Age, Mistress of American Manners, ready to discuss etiquette, Oscar ensembles and Emily — though I feel like I have to tell you we spent more the time commenting on Kunio Kato. Melissa valiantly tried to keep us on track during the commercial breaks, hurriedly addressing Ms. Post’s life and legacy, but really we were all too busy eating to contribute much to the conversation.

I am, of course, talking about myself when I say this. In my defense: how eager would you be to review the contents of a book — no matter how much you enjoyed it — if there was Champagne, spanikopita, chocolate-dipped strawberries and a twirling Hugh Jackman to distract you?

Position the racks to divide the oven into thirds and preheat the oven to 375°. Line two baking sheets with silicone baking mats or parchment paper.

Bring the milk, water, butter, and salt to a rapid boil over high heat in a heavy-bottomed 2-quart saucepan. Add the flour all at once, lower the heat to medium-low and quickly start stirring energetically with a wooden spoon. The dough will come together and a light crust will form on the bottom of the pan. Keep stirring — with vigor — another 2 to 3 minutes to dry the dough. The dough should now be very smooth.

Turn the dough into the bowl of a mixer fitted with the paddle attachment (or you can continue by hand). Add the eggs one by one and beat, beat, beat until the dough is thick and shiny. Don’t be concerned if the dough falls apart — by the time the third egg goes in, the dough will come together again. Beat in the grated cheese. Once the dough is completed, it should be used immediately.

Using about 1 tablespoon of dough for each gougère, drop the dough from a spoon onto the lined baking sheets, leaving about 2 inches of puff space between each mound of dough.

Slide the baking sheets into the oven, bake for 15 minutes, then rotate the sheets from top to bottom and front to back. Continue baking until the puffs are golden and firm, another 10 to 15 minutes. Serve the gougères piping hot as soon as they come from the oven.

Note: You can shape the gougères and freeze them for up to 2 months before you bake them. There’s no need to defrost the frozen puffs, just bake them a couple of minutes more.

* We’re planning a book club bachelorette party. No one’s getting married — we just think it’ll be fun. And funny.

Last night after dinner, Keith and I hung out in the living room, trying to plan the details of our upcoming trip to Portland, Oregon, where my friend Lydia will be marrying her wonderful boyfriend Andy. Somehow, our conversation slipped from “The menu at Le Pigeon looks really interesting” to “What do you think about living in Sofia?” …which then got me thinking about Dorie Greenspan’s blog, where she is currently comparing Paris and New York.

As a New Yorker madly in love with Paris, I don’t know if I could ever decide between the two; there are days when they seem so equally romantic, and then there are the days when I want so desperately to be in one more than the other. (Then there are the days, of course, where I dream of Singapore, Shanghai and Seoul, but that’s a different conversation altogether.)

I feel like this so often, and it makes me wonder if I’m the only one always thinking about Someplace Else. Clearly I’m not, because I know the topic is on Keith’s mind, and on my friends’ too: Beth is moving to Prague this summer, Darlington’s got her sights set on London, and Alyssa and I talk constantly about moving to France (and what we would wear there). Sometimes, though, I just get so itchy about Someplace Else that everything around me loses its color and seems so dull. Is there a cure other than a plane ticket and a passport?